


i'll give you what you need (i'll give you all of me)

by batemanonhigh



Series: kinktober 2020 [1]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Awkward Sexual Situations, Blow Jobs, Canon Rewrite, Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, I'm Sorry, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Missing Scene, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, The Author Regrets Everything, prompt: blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27035701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batemanonhigh/pseuds/batemanonhigh
Summary: "I’m gonna head to the bathroom. Would you like to accompany me, Sergio? Have you ever had the privilege of experiencing masterful fellatio from a man with great skill?” He thought the suggestion was just another one of Martín’s jokes, another comment meant to get under his skin. It, in fact, was far more genuine than he had anticipated.
Relationships: Palermo | Martín Berrote/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Series: kinktober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973158
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	i'll give you what you need (i'll give you all of me)

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from the weeknd's "wicked games."
> 
> started kinktober this year. might finish it by the time october rolls around next year. enjoy.

Sergio scrubs at the shirt beneath him, hoping that maybe cleaning it will relieve him of the frustration he feels. He doesn’t know exactly what Andrés did. He doesn’t want to know. Knowing will only make it worse. He’s gone through this too many times to pretend otherwise. 

Martín sits off to the side, watching him with a drink to his lips. He tries to ignore his presence, focusing on the shirt, the red stains he wants to rip off. He doesn’t realise how hard he’s scrubbing until he stops as Martín’s laugh hits his ears. “At this rate, you might as well buy a new shirt,” he teases, and walks over. He sets his drink down next to the shirt and pulls a spray bottle out of a nearby cabinet. “Here, let me help.” 

Martín sprays whatever the continents are on the shirt, and wraps around Sergio’s body to place his hands on his. He tries to object, squirming under Martín’s body, but it’s ignored as Martín starts scrubbing at the shirt with the toothbrush still in Sergio’s hand. He brushes in little circles, and Sergio watches as the red fades more than it has this entire time. “I could have done this myself,” he mumbles, and Martín backs off, his hands up in surrender. “You looked like you were struggling,” he argues, picking his drink back up.

Sergio stares at him blankly for a moment before spitting out a quick thank you and returning his attention to Andrés’ shirt, mimicking the movements made by Martín. The man doesn’t reply, just watches him get accustomed to the new technique. The silence hanging over their heads was hardly noticeable, but it suffocates Sergio now, wrapping around his neck and holding tight. “How did you know that would work anyway?” Martín just smiles, shrugging softly. “Experience.” It only creates more questions than if Martín had just said nothing, but he doesn’t press further. Martín’s being purposefully vague, and Sergio can’t tell whether that means he wants him to ask or he doesn’t want to answer the question. He’ll find it safe to assume the latter, based on how little he knows of Martín’s life pre-Andrés.

He tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him. Martín gets under his skin regardless of how hard Sergio tries to block it out. It makes it harder to tell himself that everything’s fine. That he’s just helping his brother. That Andrés didn’t do anything to anyone. That Martín was just offering him advice. That his brother isn’t fucking insane, and neither is his best friend. That none of it means anything. He keeps scrubbing even after the stains are gone.

When he decides he’s finished, he leaves it folded in front of Andrés’ door. He doesn’t knock or make any attempt to make his presence known. Andrés can decide to wash it or toss it out or whatever he pleases. The less Andrés tells him, the better off he is. He doesn’t need to know that Andrés kept it, that there’s a possibility he could be seeing that shirt ever again. 

\--

He’s washing the soap off of his hands when he sees Martín again, behind him in the mirror. He leans against the doorframe, watching him with a smile. “Thank you again. For helping me.” Sergio says, knowing it’s not at all what he’s there for, but the attempt had to be made. If it would get him to go away, give him a moment of rest and quiet to just think, he’d say it. The last thing Sergio needs is more stress from Andrés’ little friend. Martín doesn’t respond though, just keeps his gaze fixated on him in the mirror. It’s unsettling. The sheer intensity makes him want to run away. 

“Is there something you need?” He asks, and Martín shrugs. “Yes, actually. You never answered my question earlier.” He shuts the door behind him, and Sergio shuts the water off, trying to remember what it even was. “Remind me?” He grabs the towel off of the counter, wiping his hands. “I asked you back at the restaurant, remember? When I was helping Andrés with his bowtie?” It doesn’t come to him at first, but when it does, his heart drops and he immediately drops the towel and turns to face Martín. “I don’t have time for this,” he snaps, and Martín raises his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just curious, and besides, it’s not like you have anywhere else to be right now. I just want to know. Have you ever even received a blowjob in your life from someone who actually knows what they’re doing?” His hands fall down to his sides, but Sergio’s not in the mood to play his stupid teenage games. 

“Maybe. Does it matter? Shouldn’t you be with Andrés right now, checking the hydraulics again, or-” Martín sighs, rolling his eyes. “My calculations are fine. I know what I’m talking about. My degree isn’t just for show. Besides, if I wanted to talk numbers, I’d go to you. I’d rather talk to him, but his brain doesn’t work like ours do.” The implication of them being similar sits uncomfortably with him. It’s not that he doesn’t like Martín, he’s rather fond of the man at times, but this feels different. Did Andrés tell him what they discussed at the bar, about Martín’s feelings? Something about Martín feels off, something about the way he’s looking at him and the tone of his voice that doesn’t sit right upon Sergio’s ears. 

“Andrés is-” Martín scoffs at him, rolling his eyes. “Please. If I was here for him, wouldn’t I be in his room? Think, hermano. You’re supposed to be the brains, aren’t you?” Martín moves closer until he’s only a few feet away, and Sergio feels rather like a mouse getting cornered by a very hungry cat.

“If this is some sort of attempt to convince me that you’re not in love with my brother, really, it’s unnecessary. Things like that happen all the time with.. with friendship, and it’s perfectly normal.” But Martín just smiles at him and gets closer, closing the space between them. He shoves himself against Sergio who tenses up under the touch, eyes going wide at the sudden feeling of Martín’s hardness pressing into his thigh. “Martín,” he gasps, trying to find some sort of explanation for why this is such a bad idea. “If I was in love with your brother, I’d be in his room begging him to fuck me. And yet, here I am, with you. Now, you never answered my question earlier. Have you ever had the privilege of experiencing masterful fellatio from a man with great skill?”

Sergio shakes his head, gripping onto the counter behind him. “Please, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” Martín’s hand dips between Sergio’s thighs, squeezing his pants, and any sort of argument is forgotten for just a moment. “I disagree.” Martín’s lips are at his neck and his hands are unbuckling his belt and Sergio can’t help but wonder how Andrés would react to this. His best friend is quite literally getting into his brother’s pants. He shakes his head, and puts his hand on Martín’s, stopping him.

“I… I don’t think I can do this. It’s not right. My brother-” Martín smiles, but it doesn’t match the intensity in his eyes. “Would you rather have him blow you? You’re talking about him enough to make me think so.” Sergio’s face twists, appalled that Martín would even remotely suggest something like that. “Shut up,” he growls. “Make me.”

He does. He presses his lips against Martín’s, whose hand darts into Sergio’s pants, clawing at him through his underwear. He kisses him with all the anger and frustration he can muster, and when Martín pulls away, he sees blood pooling on his lip. “That’s more like it.” Martín grins, and Sergio has to take a moment to try to catch his breath. He’s not thinking right, he knows that for sure, because when Martín slips his hand into Sergio’s underwear, he’s rock hard and he’s seriously considering letting Martín have his way. 

Martín bites his lip, sucking on the cut, and Sergio blames the heat of the moment and the lack of blood going to his brain for thinking the movement is almost attractive. He grinds down on Sergio’s thigh, letting out a soft groan against his skin. “When’s the last time you did anything like this?” He asks, repeating the action as he jerks Sergio off. “I- I don’t know.” He tries to remember. But he’s finding it increasingly hard to concentrate with Martín filling his senses, fulfilling something desperate and hungry within them both. Sergio hasn’t let himself have a moment like this in a long time (the last time he can remember is with a girl his brother introduced him to, and getting stood up on their second date), but he thinks this is something far deeper for Martín. Maybe. He doesn’t spend much time thinking about it after Martín starts rubbing circles on the tip of his dick, making his hips buck back against the sink. 

Martín ends up pulling back, eliciting a silent moan from Sergio’s lips. He looks fucking wrecked, and he imagines he probably looks the same. Martín pulls Sergio’s pants down and drops to his knees before he can even process what’s happening. He thinks about protesting, about stopping this before it’s too late, but then Martín’s tongue is on his dick, and he’s pulling Sergio into his mouth, and oh God- he can’t think of anything else. Martín’s relationship with Andrés doesn’t matter, no, not when he’s on his knees in front of him, taking him in like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. He keeps his own hands on the sink, unsure of whether he should touch Martín or not. He’s never been in a situation quite like this.

Martín doesn’t look at him, doesn’t pay attention to him. He’s never been in a situation quite like this, and he’s never had anyone try to suck his brains out like this. He can’t tell whether he’s just suffering from a lack of experience or if Martín just excels at activities like this. (He always tries to tune out when he hears Martín mention anything of sex.) Maybe it’s a gay thing, or maybe it’s just a Martín thing.

Sergio himself has never been attracted to men. He likes women, when he lets himself dwell on the thought. He’s not nearly as interested in chasing meaningless sex, not in the way his brother and Martín are, but he knows for sure. He doesn’t like men like that. Of course, one might not believe him upon the sight of Sergio’s cock deep in another man’s mouth. But he’ll have plenty of time for a sexuality crisis after Martín’s lips aren’t around any part of him.

Martín does finally look up though, when he’s pressing his nose against Sergio’s groin. The sight of his wide blue eyes peering into his soul, the ends of his lips turning up as he slowly pulls back - Sergio will never be able to look at him the same. He guides Sergio’s hands to the back of his head, almost as though he’s encouraging him to fuck his face, and he’s not sure he can. Sergio shakes his head, panting hard as he takes his hands back, and Martín squeezes his eyes shut and takes him in (Sergio thinks he felt the back of Martín’s throat, maybe, he’s feeling so much at once) until he starts to gag and choke. He does it again, and again. Sergio’s on the verge of shoving him off before he hurts himself, his only hesitation being sheer curiosity.

When he pulls off on his own, spit dangles from his swollen lips and there are tears in his eyes. He looks up at Sergio for a second before taking him in again, something so vulnerable and dangerous that makes Sergio feel like he shouldn’t be looking at it, and he comes to his senses and remembers just who it is below him. “Martín,” Sergio says, but his head keeps bobbing. It comes out uncertain, unsteady, and it comes out almost like he’s moaning the name. He repeats it, and it’s firmer than anything he’s said since Martín first came in, perhaps even firmer than anything he’s said since they left the bank. He stops, sitting back on his knees. His breathing is almost as unsteady as Sergio’s, his own cock sitting loosely in his hand. 

He almost wants to return the favour, give back the pleasure he gave him to show his thanks, but that’s not why he stopped him and he puts the unwanted thought aside like he never had it in the first place. “This really… this doesn’t feel right, I’m sorry.” Martín gives him an exasperated sigh in return, a sharp scowl replacing any softness or mirth he had just mere moments ago. “What is your fucking issue with me? I can’t even give you a blowjob without you getting mad at me!” It’s certainly not the response he was expecting. He doesn’t even know where to start on addressing that.

“What? No, no- that’s not- no.” He tucks his cock back into his pants, hoping that if he puts himself back together, he can pretend the last hour never happened. “My issue isn’t with you, my issue is with.. with the situation.” He has to pause as he speaks, trying to keep his voice low. He doesn’t know where Andrés is, and he never wants him to have to find out about this. Ignoring the fact that it would be such a hit to his brother’s pride to have to see something like this, Sergio knows that if Andrés somehow found out, neither him nor Martín would ever get the chance to live it down. 

Martín pulls up his underwear and stands up, ignoring him as he fixes his clothes. Sergio was too focused on Andrés’ pride and his own to even consider Martín’s, and this fact dawns on him as he watches Martín wipe tears off of his face. “I’m sorry, please, this really isn’t about you.” Martín just nods and mutters a quick yeah, and Sergio falls silent, abandoning his attempts at comforting him. They regather themselves together, an unspoken vow to pretend nothing happened hanging heavy in the air. At least, he hopes Martín is willing to vow this with him.

Sergio subtly looks over when Martín pauses, and he watches him smile at himself in the mirror. He wouldn’t have thought anything of it if he had just passed Martín in the hallway or something like that, but now? He thinks Martín looks sad, so defeated. How many times has he hidden his true feelings with a smile without either him or Andrés even questioning it? He wants to ask, even truly considers it, but he’s done enough damage to their relationship. He doesn’t want to push it further. 

When Martín turns to face him, he almost looks normal again. His lips are still swollen and his face is vaguely pink, but it’s the finer details that Andrés (hopefully) wouldn’t even glance twice at. “I’m sorry,” Sergio says again, but Martín just laughs it off. “It wouldn’t mean anything if you had finished, right? So it doesn’t mean anything now.” He’s lying. He’s such a good liar. Sergio could believe him if he really tried. (He wants to believe him.) 

His pants rub against him uncomfortably, and he knows Martín would probably still finish what he started if he asked now. But as tempting as the idea is, he really, really can’t. He can’t be whatever Martín is looking for. He’s not stupid, he knows Martín isn’t here for him. Or if he is, it’s not for the right reasons. And Sergio just can’t do that to him, do that for him. 

Should he apologise again? He’s never been in this situation before. Does he send assorted edibles and arranged flowers to Martín’s doorstep? ‘Sorry for not letting you make me cum, but I appreciated the thought!’ This is normally the part where he asks Andrés for advice, because he’s been married four- no, five, he keeps having to remind himself this- five times now, and knows these things better than anyone he’s ever met. Maybe he’ll wait a few days, or weeks, or months, and bring it up later when he has some convincing alibi that shows it couldn’t possibly be Martín. Or maybe he’ll never bring it up again, letting it stay in the past with every other one of his failed relationships - which in hindsight, isn’t much, but that’s a problem for another time.

Martín gives him a look, which feels less meant for him and more meant at him, that displays a sort of longing that makes him question whether it was even meant at him at all. “Are you okay?” He asks, and it comes out like an apology, like something he’s meant to ask than what he actually wants to say. Sergio just nods and soft laughter passes his lips, but the noise doesn’t sound like it came from him when it falls upon his ears. It sounds distant and hollow, and Martín smiles and pats him on the back before leaving. 

He looks at himself in the mirror again after Martín shuts the door. He’ll ignore this, wait until his body stops aching for Martín’s touch again, and call it a day. Perhaps one day he’ll face the music, but today does not have to be that day, and it certainly will not be if he has a say in it. He leaves the room with one thought lingering in the back of his mind. (Martín has to go.)


End file.
